


This Life of Ours

by mylittlebigbluebox



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Forced Relationship, Friendship, post 1x17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 02:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1451722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittlebigbluebox/pseuds/mylittlebigbluebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenna didn't ask for this life, but it's the only one she's got.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Life of Ours

She doesn’t say anything when she wakes up the morning after to find his arm slung across her body.

She could, of course, say something – he would probably expect her to – but instead she decides against it, ignores just how comfortable she really is and finally opens her eyes to find him lost somewhere between her neck and shoulder.

 _So much for keeping to their own side of the bed._ They had silently agreed upon such as soon as they had been pushed in there, following their hasty nuptials. Kenna had been so wrapped up in her tears that she hadn’t really paid their humble – _humble_ was a polite way to put it – abode too close attention until the morning after. Pondering over his own angst, Bash had quickly taken up his side of the bed with his back to his new wife.

 _We may be married,_ Kenna had said once her wits had returned to her the day after – all bluster and frustration balled up inside, _But I shall never truly be yours, do you understand?_

Bash hadn’t argued. In fact, in the entire week they had been married, he had been so sullen and withdrawn he had yet to argue with her about anything until a couple of nights ago; Who would’ve known that a quibble about a shaving mirror could escalate so quickly?

Kenna had almost enjoyed it, at least more than the silence. But the agreement to at least try to like each other was a fair one. And the acknowledgement, the understanding that neither was what the other wanted was something of a relief on the situation.

Kenna had long known of how Bash would forever be pliable to her Queen’s needs and she knew it was far from out of duty but rather affection. It was no secret, the whole of the French Court knew it, and Kenna had never been envious of it, at the time she had meant it when she said her focus was herself.

Still, seeing him follow Mary like a puppy just hours later had sat uncomfortably with her and she hadn’t realised just how much until he’d cornered her about the King.

She wasn’t jealous of Mary. She wasn’t jealous of Bash’s feelings for Mary.

Kenna was grieving for a love she would never have. She was sixteen and she was forever tied to a marriage that could only cause her grief. She would forever have to bear witness as her husband fawned at her Queen’s feet whilst she remained untouched and unloved by his side.

When he’d rescued her later, something had skewed from its uncertain place to another. He may not love her but they could at least be friends and friends protected each other. She appreciated the thought; no matter what, he was on her side and – as precarious as their side was – that at least would put a smile to her face.

She could live this life as long as she wasn’t alone.

What he thought he was protecting her from in their sleep, however, she had no idea. A knight, indeed.

With her dream like state passed, Kenna unravelled herself from the dead weight – she daren’t admit how comfortable she actually was with his breath at her throat – and heaved herself from the heavy furs of their bed, Bash’s hand falling with a thump to the mattress.

Running a hand through her hair, Kenna quickly reached for a hair brush as the sheets rustled behind her.

“Mornin’,” Bash grunted, his head mused with sleep.

A little too spritely, she replied, “Good morning.”

The long silence made her turn to see whether he’d drifted off again. Instead he was watching as she combed through her hair, his eyes drooped in sleep and the look of someone who had forgotten what was the most vital thought just a moment ago, but an air of contentment all the same.

“What?” Kenna shot in feigned irritation, and ill disguised curiosity.

Bash sharpened at the tone of her voice, “Nothing,” and rose from his leisurely spot, rounding the bed and taking up the jug of warm ale on the dresser, “Drink?”

Vaguely smiling, she welcomed the filled cup in her hands and watched as Bash went about his routine.

She could live this life as long as she wasn’t alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I have high hopes for these two. Let’s hope the writers get it right.  
> Jessica


End file.
